A Small Spat
by KumdoGirl
Summary: Draco and Hermione have been together for a few months now, but as the end of the year ball and banquet (yeah, things have changed at Hogwarts since Voldemort was defeated) comes up, Hermione finds that despite his pureblood upbringing, or perhaps because of it, Draco refuses to dance. Thus begins an argument that lasts several weeks, finally culminating in one last shouting match.


It had been two weeks, but Hermione could still remember the beginning of that argument.

"So, Draco," she had asked, still feeling slightly nervous. Even though they'd been… together for three months, she felt butterflies in her stomach every time she thought about _them_. "The end of the year is coming up…"

Draco glanced up from his book, one of those strange smiles on his face. They seemed to be there more and more often, whenever she caught him looking at her. She wasn't sure what made him so happy, but she was glad. He deserved more happiness in his life after everything that had happened. "If you want to know, Mione, I have no intention of letting you go after this year is up." There was that possessive gleam in his eye. Hermione felt herself shiver just thinking about it. It was kind of a turn on, that she could cause such a feeling.

For a moment she had been speechless, but she was Hermione Granger, and no one could distract her from what she had her mind on that easily. "I was actually thinking, I mean, we are together and…" ugh, she was tripping over her words. Was it that hard to bring up something like this? "We'll be going to the end of year ball and banquet together, right? We really should start thinking about that. I have no idea how to dance properly, and…"

"Don't worry about it," Draco cut her off, an odd look in his eyes. "I'll go with you, of course, but I don't dance."

"What? But… you're… how can you not know… it can't be that hard…"

"It's quite simply actually. I don't dance." Draco looked back down at his book as if that was that.

"Just come with me to lessons. I'm sure you'll find it more enjoyable than you think."

"Granger. What part of 'I don't dance' do you not understand?"

Hermione frowned pensively. It had gone downhill from there, descending into her stomping out of the room and Draco peevishly pretending to read his book. Ever since that things had not been going well. She didn't understand why he would be so stubborn. She really wanted to dance. She'd danced at the Yule Ball, of course, and that had been a magical experience. She wanted to have that sort of experience with Draco. Was it that hard to understand?

The two had taken to walking past each other in stormy silence, having curt conversations when necessary, and generally taking offense to everything the other said or did.

Hermione had gone ahead and signed up for lessons anyways. And when she told Draco he had stormed away angrily. Then when she went to get lunch at their usual time, Draco was already sitting with Pansy, Millicent, and Theo, as was their custom on Tuesdays. Blaise had offered her his place near them, since no one had thought to save her a seat, but Hermione was too hurt to accept it, choosing instead to sit with Neville and Luna. The whole time she felt like a horribly awkward third wheel, but it was worth it to see Draco's face when she walked away. He was being a git, and he needed to realize that.

The next day at potions, instead of sitting down to work with Draco, Hermione had made her way over to Lavender's table, despite the fact that she despised Lavender, and asked if she could use help since their current project involved coming up with their own potion using black beetle eyes, goose grass, turtle shells, and saltpeter. It wasn't that difficult, in her mind. The goose grass was a stabilizing agent that allowed the turtle shell to dissolve fully into the potion without exploding. Then, if you added some porcupine quills and few select herbs it was easy to come up with a mild hallucinogenic used for relieving pain. Of course, you could do a lot of other things with it.

Lavender had, however, not realized any of the applications of the four ingredients, and eagerly accepted her help. The class was hardly enjoyable. By the end of it Hermione wanted to strangle both Lavender and Draco.

The rest of the week had proceeded apace, and by the end of the two weeks Hermione was at the end of rope. She had retreated to the abandoned classroom she now sat in, tears springing to her eyes at the cruel words she and Draco had just exchanged.

"I don't want to fight anymore," she whispered.

"Do you mean that?"

Hermione jumped. She had not expected to hear that voice so soon. It seemed that Draco had followed her to the classroom. Immediately she was embarrassed at the way she was crying, even though she had cried so many times in his arms. That was why she hated fighting like this, it seemed like it would undo all the progress they had worked so hard to make.

"I asked, if you meant what you said?" He still sounded kind of pissed, and Hermione felt her temper rise.

"Of course I mean that. Do you think I _enjoy_ fighting with you? You might. You're Slytherin after all. You get off on other people's misery, right?"

Draco looked taken aback.

"I'm sorry," she began quickly.

"No. No, this is good. Keep going. I'd like to know exactly what you think of me. I'd been under the impression that you thought I was different than that, but maybe a high and mighty Gryffindor like you might have a harder time getting on with a former death eater than I thought. It was stupid of me, really."

"As if you don't have prejudices against Gryffindors. It's not like Slytherins are the only ones who get the short end of the stick."

"Of course," he sneered. "Being stupidly brave and never knowing when to back down definitely equals with being a sneaky scheming death eater. I'll remember that next time I walk in the Ministry and feel every single scathing glare."

"Don't make this about prejudice. This is about _us._ This is about you refusing to do something incredibly simple that I desperately want to do."

"Incredibly simple. Right. Like you would know anything about why I don't want to."

"How would I? You never said anything!"

"You never asked."

"I never…" Hermione inwardly kicked herself. Had she really not asked? "No, that's not true. I asked why you wouldn't, and you refused to answer." Now she was mad. "But you're carrying on as if I were the one who wouldn't understand."

Now it was Draco's turn to look guilty. "Maybe I didn't tell you, but you should understand that if I wouldn't tell you it had to be a big deal. "

"How the bloody hell would I know any such thing?" Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth at the expletive that had just left it.

Draco took a step forward, and Hermione felt herself backing up. "Are you going to make me tell you, then. Do you want to know exactly why a pureblood bred, former death eater might not want to go to a formal dance?"

Hermione found herself shaking her head as he kept advancing and she kept backing up. Then she was up against a wall, and Draco had his hands on either side of her. She could tell that whatever reason he had, it wouldn't be pleasant. Why had she made such a big deal out of this? She should have just given in.

"I'll show you." For some reason that sounded like a threat. She flinched as he raised his hand, but it wasn't to hit her, instead he reached into her robe's pocket and pulled out her wand. "Take it. You know what to do."

Hermione shivered even though it was warm in the empty classroom. She really didn't want to see this, but she knew she had to. With shaking fingers, she took the wand from Draco and pointed it directly at him. Tears were already making their way down her cheeks when she whispered the word.

"_Legilimens._"

For a moment, darkness, and then she was racing along a carefully constructed mind until one memory was shoved at her from all the rest. She entered it reluctantly. She didn't really have a choice.

Draco stood in the sidelines of the great ballroom at the manor. Hermione recognized it from her short time there when Bellatrix had tortured her.

Something seemed to be going on in the center of the floor, and around that death eater couples danced to soft ballroom music. Footsteps drew closer, and Hermione gasped when she came face to face with Voldemort. He didn't seem to notice her, though. Of course not. This was only a memory. Instead, his attention was focused on his youngest Draco.

"Come, come. You should be enjoying the festivities," he hissed.

Draco flinched at the words and grasped his goblet until his knuckles turned white.

"You should check out the main entertainment, then, if you refuse to dance."

"I- I think I'll dance, some."

"Very good. Why don't you dance with her?" Voldemort snapped long pale fingers and two death eaters came forward bearing a frantic woman between them. She was a bit older, and whenever her eyes came to rest on Voldemort or either of the two death eaters holding her they became just a little bit wider.

"Marilyn Dessey, a muggle sympathizer. She used to work at the ministry. Get to know her."

And then the woman was thrust at Draco, and he was holding her up, his face blank. "Come on, might as well give them a show, then."

When the woman didn't respond he sighed and placed her arms so that they were in a traditional dancing pose.

"Move your feet, woman. Do you want to give him an excuse to torture you?"

The dance was painful. It seemed to drag on forever, until at last the music stopped and Voldemort gathered the attention of his followers.

Hermione turned her eyes on the center of the floor, where a stone platform, just large enough for someone to lie on, rested, chains attached at just the right places. She gasped as Voldemort ordered Draco to lead Marilyn to the slab, and felt her eyes sting with unshed tears as the chains leaped up to encircle the thin woman's wrists and ankles.

With a tearing sensation, Draco pulled her out of the memory. She felt herself fall to the floor, sobs wrenching her apart. She didn't need to be shown what happened next. She had a pretty good guess.

"I-I'm so sorry," She gasped out. "I never guessed. I should have… I'm just so sorry."

"It's okay." All anger had left Draco's eyes, and he looked faintly sick. He wrapped her up in his arms. "It's all over now. And I think, I think maybe I'll try to dance. I can't let my memories rule me, can I?"

"You would?"

"Only because it means so much to you. And because you'll understand if I need to stop."

Hermione felt warmth throughout her body. She turned her face upwards and met Draco's lips with her own. "I love you," she whispered.

Draco didn't say anything. He didn't have to. His lips told her everything she needed to know without any words.


End file.
